


Armistice

by Fantasticly_Anonymous



Series: Lucha Underground: Prince Puma and Johnny Mundo's World Famous Friendship [6]
Category: Lucha Underground
Genre: ASL, Angst, Emotions, Español | Spanish, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frustration, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Gym, Locker Room, Misunderstandings, Poor Johnny!, Poor Konnan!, Poor Puma!, Pre-Slash, Protectiveness, Realization, Relationship Advice, Some Humor, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Tension, Water Bottle, Wrestling Ring, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantasticly_Anonymous/pseuds/Fantasticly_Anonymous
Summary: It's finally here! The moment at least several people have been waiting for!Prince Puma and Johnny Mundo will finally come face to face, in a knife fight! Or, wait. I think I got that wrong... Yeah, sorry: Its not a knife fight. But theywillmeet, and face to face!Or: Puma and Johnny have beennotspeaking for over a week now, and Johnny's just about sick of it! Though, let's not discount Puma's feelings on the matter! And Poor Konnan has been struggling, trying to keep his distraught fighter off the ropes and in the winner's circle.All around, a rough time for some rough and tumble Luchadores.Rated T for a little 'stronger' language and... Feels maybe? Have fun~





	Armistice

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh, is Johnny finally gonna find some friendly faces? And the courage to grab a few of his problems by the horns?  
> Here's hoping! Here's hoping.

Puma really wasn't digging this whole, 'ignore each other and everything will go back to normal', routine. Sure, it made it so they could use the gym together and Puma no longer felt the _overwhelming_ , nonsensical compulsion to jump behind something when Johnny Mundo entered any given room, but something felt horribly off about trying to force things back to an old standard for 'normal'. 

Puma was pretty sure they'd _broken_ that mold when Mundo'd extended help to him and the tag team superstar EMTs known as Gabby, Federico, and Clara. 'Course, it was the fact that Mundo hadn't gone off to do his own thing _after_ that that cemented the change in status quo.  
He'd followed the medical team into their break room and he'd... Mundo'd helped. And he'd... stayed.

Puma jerked himself out of his memories in time to duck a Clothesline from a well defined, bulging forearm.  
He was also just present enough to avoid the rebound elbow that launched at him from the ropes. He wasn't fast enough though to escape the arm drag, and his world rolled until the crusty ceiling and an impressive brown beard were all he could see.

"Point: Son of Havoc!" He heard, followed by a vibration sent through the practice ring by, presumably, Konnan smacking the apron with his cane. Like he'd been doing _all_ morning.  
"Puma, baby, you're falling behind!"

Puma pushed Havoc off of himself when he realized the biker had no intention of getting off on his own, and rolled to the side and up to his feet. Expending minimum effort to do it, but still keeping his opponent at arms length, the way Konnan always coached him to do in 'friendly' practice matches.

He had to admit though, that Havoc was a lot more fun as a sparring partner than Ivelisse, who would take full advantage of any lapse in concentration and try out all manner of painful, convoluted submission holds and combinations she could dream up.

Puma wasn't a fan of... all that. So of _course_ Konnan loved it. Kept pairing him against Ivee, any time the Luchadora would say 'yes', anyway. Which was often enough that Puma was getting the impression that they were working him over in collusion. Like they had some sort of, 'Get Puma', agreement going on.

Puma wasn't a fan of that idea either. Sure, he was flexible enough that he rarely needed to tap, but getting put in those weird pretzel knots to _begin_ with was demeaning.  
Plus, every time it happened, it drove home the thought that-

"Kitty's not attending!" Came the annoying voice of Son of Havoc. Wait, where was-

Puma spun around, but not fast enough; didn't see the Clothesline coming that time. Instead, he found himself curled up on the mat, trying not to clutch at his throat, and wondering how Son of Havoc had gotten _behind_ him. And why Konnan was calling the biker over and pulling down the middle rope for him?  
Nothing was making sense anymore! 

"What?" Demanded a pleased sounding Havoc. "I thought everyone liked Alice In Wonderland."

"Good fight. Now get lost, vato loco," said Konnan, as the biker got down out of the ring right in front of him.

"Sure thing. Just let me or Ivelisse know when the Champ wants to go another round. We're always happy to oblige," he showed a few teeth in what almost appeared to be a genuine smile, then sauntered off toward the cantina.

"Puma, baby, venga aquí," the Barbarian requested, in a tone not devoid of softness.

Puma pulled himself off the mat and walked ropeside, stepping down when Konnan moved the middle rope for him as well. Hm. Guess he was doing it for everyone today.

"You okay? That was a solid shot."

_"I'll live,"_ Puma signed, swallowing to make sure he still could.

"Don't blow me off, chico." Puma shook his head at that, and revised his response.

_"It hurt, but it's okay."_

Konnan stared, eyes drifting to the days old bruise's hiding spot. Satisfied that it was still invisible, at least in the lighting of the Temple's gym, and that his protégé didn't look as if he was about to keel over, he sighed and sat on the nearby ringside stairs. 

"¿Qué voy a hacer contigo? Huh, Puma? Your head's not in the game, and at this rate... We gotta step things up. There're only-"

_"Two days-"_

"Yeah, yeah. I know I been hittin' you over the head with this, but you gotta understand: You're the Champ. Toda la gente en este Templo," Konnan pointed at the ground, "'their gunnin' for _your_ gold." He ended by pointing at Pumas waist, where the Championship belt rightfully belonged.

_"So am I."_ Puma's eyes took on a harder glint at the reminder.

Konnan nodded, hoping that the anger might stay a while. Knowing full well that an angry fighter was generally gonna do better in training than a moping fighter.  
He felt bad for the kid, knew his spirit had seen better days, but this was Lucha Libre, and Puma was gonna have to dig deep if he wanted to beat The Machine at their next fight. If he _did_ beat Cage, there probably wouldn't be another match between them for some time. But if he lost: Dario'd no doubt already shook on the wrestler getting himself another shot at the title. And the Champ.

"Ay, let's get some refrescós," the veterano said, pulling himself off the steps with the assistance of his cane.

 

As evidenced by Puma's performance the days leading up to the fight: he just didn't have it in him to pull out a win.  
Something was off in an almost comically obvious way and Konnan didn't know how to knock the kid out of his funk.

The only thing he was thankful for those few days, was the pleasant surprise of Mundo's respect. The guy gave them a wide birth and didn't actively attempt to mess with his fighter. Wise move Mundo.  
Well, that and el santo that Ivee was, she'd agreed to try, try, and try again to get through whatever was keeping Puma from the here and now.  
Turned out, Konnan liked her style. "Kid has heart," he'd thought to himself, as he watched Ivelisse tie the Champ into a neat bow in a submission he didn't seem able to shake.  
The older Luchador also respected that the 'Baddest In The Building' never aimed to maim. She had a good head on her shoulders.

Konnan caught himself more than once, advice for the Luchadora on the tip of his tongue, before he remembered that it was _Puma_ she was trying to slap some sense into.

As the day crept up on them, Konnan tried not to let it show, but he was thinking up contingencies.  
What if Cage brought a chair in the ring? What would he need to do if Puma was in real danger of injury?  
Less and less did he think of the possibility that his Luchador would pull a rabbit out of his mask and come out the other side of the match with a victory.

So when the time came, he didn't agonize over the decision. Just grabbed the first white thing he saw and threw it in the ring.  
Sure, Puma was outraged; he had every right to be, after all. He wasn't anywhere near his limit for what kind of a beating he could take, but he also wasn't gonna be held back from his prep for the next bout. 

He got Puma to understand: This was a tactical retreat -though, _he_ didn't understand the shadow cast across the kid's eyes at his use of the term-, and with him uninjured for the first time following an encounter with The Machine known as Cage, he'd be going into the next fight at one-hundred ten percent!

That's what Konnan kept telling himself. But even the day after that loss, when Puma's gym buddy Drago came back from a previously unexplained, few day absence -turned out the pobre Dragonito had been laid up with some weird 'Dragon sickness'-, his excitement had petered to a low thrum by the time they left the locker room and his warm ups still lacked a certain 'Puma-y' zeal.  
It was almost like watching someone go through their days on autopilot and Konnan was sick of being ineffectual, damn it! The ki- _Puma_ deserved more from his mentor than he'd received of late. 

 

Enter: Johnny Mundo.

 

Knock, knock.  
Three heads swiveled for the entrance to their private break room, wondering who on God's green earth -or, in Cueto's Underground Temple- would rap on the door frame as opposed to barging straight in.  
Oh, yeah, _that_ one made sense.

"Johnny? Hey, good to see ya man. Come on in!" Said a Federico who got immediate funny looks from his team mates. "What?" He whispered at them, turning down the voice of Matt Striker coming over the little soundbox, as the Luchador stepped into the room.

"Hi, guys. I was wondering if, uh, It'd be alright with you if- could I listen to the match with you?" The lack of a winning grin and the nervous delivery made even Mundo himself question his motives.

"Uh huh," said Clara, stepping up and away from the couch. "Listen here you little shi-"

"Clara," Gabby grabbed the back of Clara's jacket before the EMT could make a true advance on their visitor, and without real force, tugged to get everyone seated again.

"Yeah, yeah. I promised the little snot I wouldn't yell at him," admitted the would be provocateur.

Gabby noted the surprise in the eyes of the visitor who'd paused in the middle of the room, and posed a question of her own. "Why do you want to 'listen'? The fighters have a **tv** in _their_ break room, don't you?"

"Lemme guess: It's broken now?" Shot the grousing one curled up on one end of the couch.

Johnny looked between the three, all studying him with very different expressions. He swallowed and _didn't_ allow himself to be intimidated.  
"No, it's working as well as it has since... probably nineteen ninety-nine." That got a chuckle from _somebody_ who cut it off right quick when a couple glances reminded him that this was serious time.  
Johnny looked to the floor for a little moral support and took a breath before continuing. "I was hoping for some friendly company."

The trio didn't need to look at each other to collectively agree on-

"Yeah, alright then. Siéntese, muchacho," Clara ordered for the group. Indicating the table closer to Johnny than to their comfy seats.

The Tall Man grinned and pulled out a chair on the far side of the little table, facing the non combatants as he nestled his forearms on the smooth surface.

"So, the locker room's a competitive place? I would'a thought you all made friends, at least..." Federico trailed off, leaving Mundo with the ever more distinct feeling that the EMTs knew something about _something_.

"They can be. This one's usually not that bad, but recently: Things've felt kinda, uh... tense." It was hard to make out his mumbled, "Especially with Drago out the last few days."

"Awe, pobre Lucha-ito get his lunch stolen?" Gabby shot a 'not now' twitch Clara's way at that. Then couldn't help but double take when the 'Lucha-ito' blanched and diverted his eyes.  
Hm. Looked like maybe things hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows for Mundo either. Might help explain his deflated... Well, the guy looked tired. Even his eyes looked darker underneath than Gabby remembered.

"How's Puma been? We heard Konnan is out of the hospital," asked the ever helpful Federico, attempting to push the conversation along.

"He's been... Good." Came out a little high pitched. So no one bought it for a second.

"Have you at least apologized yet?" Snapped a _still_ grouchy Clara.

"Huh?"

"To Puma. Your 'special friend'. Remember?" Delivered with a five hundred forty degree eye roll.

" I- Puma doesn't want-"

"He was crying, you know. On the ride to the hospi-"

"Clara! Patient confidentia-"

"He _wasn't_ our patient. Was a ride along," Clara defended, crossing exasperated arms and sending a glare Mundo's way.

Federico added his two cents, hoping to calm the waters before things got choppy. Choppi _er_. "Besides, we have no idea what about. Could've been worried about his trainer, or that boot to the neck was worse than it looke-"

"Patient confidentiality! Come on people! Are we professionals or are we apes?" Gabby got a soft 'ooh, ooh, ooh' noise from the gorilla in the armchair to her left, which went wholly unappreciated.

"He cried harder when we asked where _this_ ," Clara started, jabbing a thumb towards their 'guest', "idiota was. Pretty obvious if you ask _me_."

Gabby threw her hands in the air. "Incorrigible."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Asked Johnny, rather understandably confused -and worried- by the rapid fire argument. 

"So you _haven't_ apologized? Psh, _fighters_." Clara lolled a tired head onto the backboard of the couch, **done** enough with the conversation that staring at the caterpillar ceiling crack was preferable to that tedium.  
Hm. Trick of the light, or was the thing just a little bit longer this week?

"What?" At a bit of a loss for words, Johnny looked between the other two for help.

"Ugh," said Gabby, giving up all pretense of being a fully licensed EMT and going into 'friend mode'. "When we picked Konnan off the mat last week, Puma rode along."

"I got him buckled in," Fedrico offered.

"I was applying pressure to that nasty head wound on that nasty old-"

"And Puma was," Gabby cut off the taciturn, ceiling aimed statement. "Upset."

"Poor guy was dripping salt water onto my gloves."

"And his nose was starting to snot."

" _Thank you_ Clara, we know what crying looks like," intoned an only slightly annoyed Gabby.

"I handed him some gauze."

"Yes, that was very thoughtful of you. I think he appreciated that." Clara's frown turned just a little bit upside down at the acknowledgment of a good turn.  
Gabby caught Mundo's eye and went on, "We asked about his neck, he indicated that wasn't the problem -don't worry, we cleared him," she assured some of the worry off Johnny's face. 

"I asked where you were, seeing as you were really... good with him about his last injury; he said you were, 'Not. Here.'" Federico said, really fleshing out the scene with the help of the ASL for a visual aid.  
Johnny could just about _see_ it. Although he needed to imagine the innards of the ambulance, considering he'd never taken a ride in one. Could you stand up straight in one, for example?

" _That's_ when the **real** water works got started. Nuh uh, you can't tell me otherwise, Federico! You were driving. That kid's a _silent_ crier. Should'a seen that shi-"

" **Thank** you, Clara"

"Your welcome, G." Gabby took in a lungful through her nose and held it for several seconds. Clara's upturned face transformed with more and more mirth by the moment, in response to the response the response had prompted.  
Score! It was hard to get Gabby that mad!

"So, now you know about as much as we do," the guy in the plush armchair said, face almost apologetic.

"He also made me promise not to yell at you. So thank him for your eardrums' continued health. And Gabby," Clara tacked on, partly to see whether it would make the other EMT go any redder in the face.

"Was he worried about Konnan?"

"Yeah-"

"But like I _just **said**_ , the chillón really got started when we asked after _your_ whereabouts." Clara said, cutting off Federico and finally deigning to look at the sorry excuse for a Luchador again and added, "Don't you listen? Or am I background noise to you?"

"No, no- I listened alright. Just checking, 'cause..." 

"'Cause what, Cuz?" Asked Federico, not wanting a trail off to be the last thing Johnny said to them that evening.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Yeah, why haven't you apologized yet, you grade 'A' **BASTARDO**!?" The room rang with that crude accusation, everyone too stunned to cut off the echo.  
"Oops." Eyes going wide, Clara's head whipped between the three witnesses. "Don't tell Puma."

The room broke out in laughter, even the butts of the joke joining in the raucous affair.

"Ooh, ooh! Hush up ya'll! Puma's up!" Federico called above the happy din, cranking the knob on the radio until it busted through the snap, crackle, pop volume band and back on through to clear.

All four were on the edge of their seats, at least one of them was chewing on their collar, not able to keep all the anxiety inside.  
When they heard the match called in favor of Cage a worried look traveled from one to the other and back.

"I didn't know throwing in the towel was an option?"

"Federico, mi hermano, this wasn't a title match," intoned a sagely Clara.

"What!? You didn't know either!"

"Heh heh! Caught me!"

"You think Puma's okay?" Asked Gabby, both shocked hands still covering her mouth, making it sound a bit muffled.

"Yeah." All attention flicked to Johnny at the most confident noise he'd made in their presence all evening. He didn't even flinch.  
"If Puma'd been hurt, Matt and Vamp would have said something. They know what they're doing. So does Konnan."

Well, no one could argue with that.  
So no one did. Just nodded to each other and listened to the crowd going crazy outside their little cocoon of comfort. Relative comfort.

Pretty soon, the trio was off the clock and rarin' to put the old ambulance to bed. 

Before heading out, each of them said a little tootleoo to one of the only fighters with whom they spoke English, and grabbed up their essential EMT goodies.

Johnny returned the bye-byes and promised not to raid the mini-fridge as soon as they were gone.

"Federico?" Rather surprised, the emergency medical technician stopped just inside the door, waving at the other two thirds of the team to, "Go on ahead without me; I'll survive!"  
They waved back and slipped out of the building.

"What's up? Because if it's something serious, I'm obligated to recommend you see a Doct-"

"No, no- It's... nothing like that," said a Johnny who was still seated at the little three seater table, staring at his entwined hands resting on the cool flatness.

"Oh. Well, shoot then."

Johnny let out a whoosh of air and stood from the table, all at the same time, coming to his full height yet somehow looking no larger than the jacket clad medic by the door.  
"You're a master of two and a half languages, right?"

"Hah! Yeah, only because I didn't pay enough attention in college. Otherwise it'd be a whole three," Federico said, managing to look both proud and self deprecating at the same time.

"Alright. Then I'm gonna need to ask you for a minute of your time." 

Those pleading eyes turned on him, there was nothing to do but give in to his caring nature and oblige.  
"You got it, man," he said, walking over to the table and setting his med bag on it. Just for a minute.

 

Johnny kept his distance, as he had the days leading up to the fight, and just watched the next morning.  
Puma looked good. Physically, anyway. No obvious injury nor abrasion from his Cage match the previous night. He in fact appeared rather fresh.  
His demeanor on the other hand, was as distracted as it had been the days leading up to the bout, and presumably through it.

Johnny was happy as a clam when Drago walked in not long after he himself did, exchanging the Luchador a, "Buenos días," for a Dragon-y good morning nod and snaking a fist bump out of the encounter.

He was then lucky enough to catch the animated greeting shared by the Dragon and the Puma, and even though he figured it was probably similar to eavesdropping, he couldn't help but watch their ensuing conversation.  
_"I...sick..."_  
_"...You O.K. now?"_  
Was about all he caught. but he was transfixed by the image of happiness plastered across the Prince's face. Mask. Drago looked happy too.  
He hadn't realized just how _miserable_ the Luchador had looked that last half week.  
It was high time he _did_ something about it.

As soon as Konnan entered the locker room, Johnny approached him, making it obvious as possible that he wasn't looking for a fight. 

"Mornin' Konnan," he said, with no pretense at all. 

"What'd'you want, guapo?"

Ignoring the compliment, Johnny dove right in, "Yo tengo un gran proposición," Konnan's face went from 'I hate you' to 'why are you speaking Spanish' to 'hm, I'm listening', in the breadth of little more than a second. Score!

"¿Cual es tú proposición, Mundo?" Johnny nearly cracked a grin at the _not_ teasing or derisive tone. Konnan was taking him seriously!  
He resquared his shoulders and went for it.

"Let me be Cage." At the confused squint, he made a small gesture toward the conversation still taking place across the locker room. "Let me spar Puma _as_ Cage. I've seen the Machine's fights, I know his moves; I can help you prepare the Champ for the title bout."

"Absolutely not. No," Konnan said, positioning himself between Johnny and his protégé, "You try to get _near_ my fighter-"

"Every other fighter who _doesn't_ have it out for Prince Puma is under five foot ten," Johnny argued, waving a hand to indicate the busy locker room. Full -full for 'morning' standards, anyway- of Luchadores of all shapes and sizes. Except for shapes and sizes resembling that of Puma's next main event opponent.  
"I'm the closest in height, BMI, and I'm confident I can emulate Cage's style of fighting and apply it in the practice ring. Without anyone getting hurt," he tacked on, catching the way Konnan's grip spasmed on the handle of his cane. 

"What makes you think I'd, in a million years, trust you enough to let you spar my fighter? Huh?"

"You've done it before."

"Different circumstances, vato. You were posing as his bud then. Now, I don't know your angle, but I'm hip to your style. The name of the game is 'manipulation'. I can't let you-"

"His head's not in it, right?" Konnan shut his mouth quick at that.  
"Puma's been off and it's all because of me, _right_?" He could see the gears behind Konnan's glasses turning, corroborating everything Johnny said and informing the Barbarian of what good as well as bad might come of that arrangement.

"Letting him take his frustrations out on you might just do the trick," Konnan said, reluctance apparent but fading fast. After all, if avoiding the problem hadn't been helping, forcing the two parties into exchanging blows was _bound_ to be more productive!  
"Remember, Mundo: You mess with my fighter,-"

"I get the cane. I know." They locked gazes for a few long seconds, then both jerked when someone shut a locker door with twice the force usually necessary to latch the poor thing.  
Johnny was the first to pull his attention back to his conversation partner. "So, when do we start?"

"Right after warm ups. Don't keep us waiting," Konnan walked off with a perturbed yet bemused expression haunting his war hardened face.  
Why hadn't he thought of that himself?!

 

So the two estranged Luchadores entered the ring from opposite corners, not meeting eyes, but circling clockwise, then counterclockwise. Intent gazes trailing up and down the other's legs, studying for footwork and hesitation.

At what felt like the same moment, both fighters glanced up, and in that heartbeat, Johnny 'The Machine' Mundo, forgot all about his deal with Konnan. He forgot... everything when his eyes locked with the set across the ring; inscrutable and at the same time, immeasurably sad.  
Johnny's feet stuck fast and for a second, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to do this- this whole, being one of the outside forces who'd torn their friendship asunder. Who'd put that look in Prince Puma's eyes. 

_Who'd_ put that look in Puma's eyes?  
That's right. It'd been none other than Johnny himself, and the less he thought about _that_ , the better a sparring partner he'd be.

Doing his impression of Cage, Johnny channeled intention pretty clearly through his footwork and exaggerated arm movements, coming at a Puma who was advancing to meet him in the middle of the ring, with a Discus Lariat.

_Thankfully_ Puma ducked it with change to spare, Johnny'd been coming in slowly, and sent a -gentle?- kick to his opponent's hip. Trying to throw him off balance? Johnny absorbed the check and grabbed the leg, it not being retracted with any urgency at all, and _put_ some urgency into Puma's movements by going for a hold.

Puma was across to the farthest corner before either of them could blink. Looking for the world as if he couldn't make heads or tales of the _thing_ he'd just escaped in the middle of the practice ring.  
Johnny figured he deserved that. This was the first time the two of them had come even _close_ to speaking in over a week. And the language Konnan was just then instructing his protégé to employ: violence.  
Not Johnny's first choice. Not by a long shot, but if trading body shots and DDTs was the only way to gain back a modicum of trust from either of the Luchadores currently giving him _looks_ , one of which easily identifiable as a 'stink eye', he'd be the best sparring partner the gym had ever seen.

 

Puma hadn't believe his ears when Konnan told him, half way through his warm up routine, that he was starting the day off with a friendly spar. His opponent: Johnny Mundo.

What chicanery had been employed to get _Konnan_ , practically the biggest Mundo detractor of all, to agree to such a set up?  
Puma didn't know how he felt about this. It'd been... taxing enough spending days in the gym ignoring Mundo. Imagine how much worse having to _fight_ him could be.

Being a professional and the Underground Champ though, Puma scolded himself and steeled his resolve on the matter. He'd take full advantage of the opportunity presenting itself and imagine Cage in the ring, in place of who was actually going to be there.  
How hard could that be? They were practically the same height!

Yeah, pretty darn hard, it turned out.  
The two might've been the same height, but he'd know those footsteps anywhere, he realized, as they began circling the inside perimeter of the ropes.  
If the guy's _footsteps_ were distracting, this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd tried to convince himself it-

Then their eyes met, and Puma was struck by the saddest expression he could remember ever staring into. It felt almost like some sick, twisted mirror, reflecting his own... pain back at him.

Then the _not_ Cage started towards him and he didn't have time to wonder how that soul hurt look had found itself nestled in those eyes. The 'fight' was on. 

Even through his distraction it was easy to see the Lariat coming, so he ducked it no sweat.  
Still not able to convince himself that this was actually happening though, his neat little sidekick barely made contact and ended up throwing _him_ more off balance than it did... his opponent. His opponent who happened to be going for his leg- No, not a repeat of Ivelisse!

He slipped out of reach and across the ring faster than he thought he'd moved all week. Wow. Maybe Konnan had been right about taking Mundo up on his offer after all. 

"Enough dancing niños! What is this: choreographed?! Puma, put a little conviction behind it!" Came Konnan's voice from ringside, not as annoyed sounding as one might expect, but just as insistent.

Puma gave a terse thumbs up at the same time Mundo nodded. Was that meant for him?

They circled some, neither finding a hitch in the other's strides, but looking for one all the same.  
Puma took the initiative, seeing as he'd given a thumbs up and all, and came in looking like he was going for a Superman punch. 'The Machine' met him half way across the ring, poised as if he might grab the punch and redirect it into an arm drag.  
Too bad Puma wasn't _actually_ going for a huge punch.

With the help of the misdirect, he easily ducked and got both arms around one of Mundo's legs and shouldered him in the midriff, flipping the guy to the mat in an old Lucha Libre take down.

"That's it! Point: Puma!" Declared a rather zealous Konnan.

A plus on that maneuver being that it left Puma standing, ready to jump closer or farther, depending on the other's next move. Which happened to be a leg sweep that he hopped neatly away from.

Oh, but the leg sweep was a play to get him to back off! Smart. Now Mundo had plenty room to get back to a vertical base and figure things out from there. 

The going in circles game getting rather old, the sparring Luchadores went instead for a clench. Heads close and a hand each on the back of the other's neck, grappling to make their's the 'upper'.  
Both realizing in the same beat, that Cage wouldn't be the kind to go for a traditional Lucha exchange such as the one they found themselves occupied with, and the Ender of Worlds still being some faster on the draw, Johnny took advantage of the position and swept his hand -a good fistful of leather Puma mask between the fingers- down toward the mat. Forcing the shorter Libre fighter to double over.  
Which just so happened to be the exact position from which Cage flipped fighters up for a... Powerbomb.

Johnny had to do it. The Machine would never pass up such a perfect opportunity, so his doppelgänger wasn't supposed to either. For that reason, he grabbed up two handholds, tried his best to emulate that specific style of brutishness, and yanked Puma head over heels.  
Now he was poised, and were he _actually_ the Machine known as Cage, he'd have given his sparring partner a solid shot to the mat before the guy had a moment to figure out what had gotten him by the waist and thrown him for a loop.  
As it was; Johnny was having a tough enough time staying on task _without_ the help of an immediately guilty conscience, thanks much.  
He'd offered to help, not damage.

 

Puma up in those arms, suspended off the mat just so.  
Johnny the one holding the Prince there, ready to lay him out just as he'd attempted to prevent someone else doing... not so long ago.

 

Flashes of the night they'd become friends popped in each fighter's head, making it a struggle to carry on without pause, but desperation in not wanting anyone to catch on that they were distracted pushed them through.  
Puma kicked and wriggled _hard_ against the hold that hadn't yet turned into a Bomb; the strong arms, muscles not so dissimilar to the true Machine's, gripped tighter until Puma found the exact angle of twist that broke him free.

He hit the mat and rolled out of the ring, telling himself that he needed a breather, but knowing that what he _really_ needed was to get over all that had happened over the past couple weeks.  
It was obvious Mundo had. Otherwise... why would the Luchador be doing this?  
Wait. Why _was_ he doing this?!

Puma broke himself from his intent stare at the ring apron, only then realizing that he'd been spacing, to study the man still standing in the middle of the ring.  
He hadn't come after him when he'd freaked and slipped under the bottom rope. Mundo was letting him get his head back on straight, and Puma had to admit that what he was doing couldn't look like much else.  
Not like he was clutching an arm or anything- hey that was a... **bad** idea. Konnan'd be on him in a _second_ \- it'd be a horrible headache, so no fake injuries.

No, he was gonna suck it up and get back in that ring! Any second now.

"What's'a matter, baby?" Puma heard, less than a foot from his ear, making him jump just a hair.  
"¿Estás bien? If you need-"

_"It's fine; I'm good,"_ he signed at light speed while jumping up on the apron, then vaulting over the top rope.  
Konnan was already worried, darn it. He must've been _really_ off his game if the Barbarian was going into 'protection' mode. At least he'd been quiet about it.  
Puma was gonna have to do better than that if he wanted to keep gold come that Cage fight.

"Alright, that's more like it! Puma, good technique on that hold break! Practice that!" The coach said in his best 'everything is one hundred percent fine' voice.  
"Mundo," he said, switching tones at a speed that would have given anybody else whiplash, "keep it up. Kid needs the workout."

"Sure thing," the taller fighter said, just a hint of pride coloring the words.

 

By the end of the day, Prince Puma and Johnny Mundo could look each other in the eyes again -like _adults_ , had spent a water break in the same room, and had... well, that had been about it.

"At least it was _progress_ ," Johnny mumbled to himself while toweling his sweat beaded neck. He chucked the towel back into his locker with only half a thought as to whether it needed a wash, and made for the locker room door. Nearly walking straight into Konnan as the older **appeared** from out of the gloom of the hallway. Like a specter.

"Mundo," the terse ghost started, before Johnny could sidestep him and be on his way. "I saw what you did. With that Powerbomb?"

Johnny scrunched an eyebrow, searching the ex Luchador's face for a clue as to his mood. "Uh-"

"Don't play dumb with me, tonto. You _had_ the kid, then you just stood there. I wanna know why. Why you playin' nice all of a sudden?" Konnan stood his ground, impassive as a statue, a hard look aimed right at Johnny, while the taller fighter floundered for something to say.

"I- I- you told me to 'watch it'."

"That's not it, Mundo." Now he was blocking the _whole_ doorway. Great.

Heaving a sigh and shifting his feet to a more comfortable position, Johnny realized that this was _exactly_ the opportunity he'd been wanting for for over a week: The chance to explain himself.  
He also knew that Konnan was still mad at him and far too 'savvy' to believe the truth of what had happened, so he gave the guy what he'd asked for without forcing the matter.  
"I... _wanted_ to be there. I regret not being there for the fight. If I'd been sitting ringside like-"

"Like you _promised_ the Champ you would?" The venom in the question stung, but Konnan had said nastier things to him with angrier faces in the past. Nothin' new. So he just nodded and went on.

"Maybe you wouldn't have needed..." He indicated Konnan's forehead, to which the coach squinted. "And maybe Puma wouldn't have lost the next bou-"

"I'mm'a stop you right there. All that:" The retiree said, with one hand making a swirly motion indicating 'all that'. " **Happened**. Whether you being there would'a stopped _any_ of it -or made it worse-," the coach sounded right there as if he was actually making an effort to be less harsh than his usual self. That felt kinda weird for both of them. So they elected to ignore it. "Don't matter. What _does_ , is that today's spar was Puma's best in a long-ass time. You two keep that up; he has _more_ than a shot come that title match."  
Was that twitch at the corner of the older gent's mouth a... smile? No. No, it must've been a trick of the light.

"I-"

"You ever consider acting?" Well _that_ was out of left field. What in the world?

"What?"

"'Cause for a second there, you almost had me convinced you _actually_ care." Konnan definitely noticed the way Johnny's eyes widened at the jab. Perhaps to soften the blow, he added,"Almost thought it was Cage in that ring today too. Keep it up, Mundo."

The coach turned and made for the gym, where one could hear the sound of a cool down routine happening. 

Though Konnan hadn't touched him, Johnny felt almost as if he'd received a friendly clap on the shoulder right there at the end. Probably it had been Konnan's _equivalent_ to one; ending on something that wasn't obviously a put down.

Johnny chalked the day up as a win and left the Temple feeling better than he'd had any right to in days.  
Tomorrow was gonna be the day: He was gonna make that leap and _talk_ with Puma. 

 

"'Morning, Puma," came the meek greeting that barely made it past Johnny's taught lips. A bit too nervous about the other's reaction to smile naturally.

After a moment's tense pause, in which Puma's eyes flicked first right, then left, the younger Luchador raised a hand and sent his own greeting. _"Hi, -"_

Wait! Was that the letter 'M'? What happened to 'J'?!  
Oh, right. That would make sense. They were on last name terms now. Figured.  
Although, Johnny really wasn't sure how to call a guy named 'Prince Puma' by a last name. Had he been doing it the whole time?  
He did his best to shrug off how much that brought him down and managed to at least get the smile less plastic, if not smaller.

"Ready to hit it?"

Puma nodded and turned away from Johnny, toward the practice ring, already done with warm ups for the day. Leaving Johnny feeling like he'd been given the cold shoulder, yet hopeful that a good practice bout would bring just as much positive change as yesterday's seemed to.  
Puma had _spoken_ to him after all. And looked him straight in the face for over one second! Things were really looking up!

Konnan had decided that Puma needed more work on his take downs, pins, and submissions, because he wasn't used to opponents as tall as the Machine needing to be taken down.

Johnny was... alright with that. So long as it was to help Puma's technique, he'd take the brunt of the beatings for the day. Or the week for that matter.  
He had the feeling though, that Konnan might, just _might_ , have been doing this purely out of spite. Spite towards Johnny. That almost pat on the shoulder the previous evening not enough to get the guy to take it easy on him.

So the morning leading up to lunch break was spent with Johnny in lots of different holds and pins, doing his best to only try and break them in a style Cage would employ. Every now and then having to deny himself from trying a really cool hold break because he knew that the Machine wasn't as flexible as he was.

Now that Johnny thought about it, Puma wasn't going for the pins in quite effective enough a fashion. Ooh, prime example, coming right up:

Puma flipped off the middle rope in a move similar to a shooting star, aim impeccable as ever so that all Johnny needed to do -being the perfect sparring partner and all-, was catch him. So he did, and though this was just practice, the move still had enough kick that he would have needed to try _harder_ to keep standing than he did to fall on his back with the feline 'foe' landing neatly on top of him.

Puma grabbed Johnny's leg with one hand behind the knee and pulled it toward himself, at the same time using his other arm to push down on one of his opponent's shoulders.  
After all morning going like this, Johnny was positive that Konnan must've been nearing the 'blowup' stage of ticked with his protege. Especially considering the coach had been telling the 'kid' over and over again to, "Really go for those pins, Puma! No shortcuts just because this ain't the real deal!"

Johnny didn't give himself a second to mull it over; just moved.  
Before Puma could pretend more than a 'one' count had elapsed, Johnny grabbed the hand hooked around the back of his knee and pulled it to halfway up the back of his thigh.  
In the same moment, his other arm reached up and onto the Prince's back and pulled hard enough to get them flush against each other.  
Chest to chest, and one leg pulled up far and firmly enough that Johnny Mundo himself would have had difficulty getting his shoulders off the mat; Puma got the three count he needed, but this time, Johnny had provided it.

As soon as the 'three' left Mundo's mouth, Puma was up and fuming.

 

Konnan saw the whole thing, top to bottom, and had been _positive_ that that 'this is how _wrong_ you're doing it' move by Mundo had been enough to get his hide **tanned** by the understandably prideful Prince.  
Kinda too bad, considering Mundo had been _right_.  
The look on the kid's face had only reinforced his certainty. Puma never got that mad about _anything_. Mundo'd finally pushed the Champ over the edge, and the only thing about that Konnan found tragic, was the fact that it had been a solid technique correction that finally did it. The estupido was gonna get his can kicked for being a good sparring partner.  
_This_ , Konnan had to see.

But then, before Mundo'd even had a chance to sit up, Puma's furious expression evaporated, his taught shoulders sank, and the fighter turned his back to the Mundo, an expression of blankness aimed at the mat while he just _stood_ there.

What in the world? Konnan could barely believe his eyes. Even through his glasses! The kid hadn't even flipped the pendejo the bird! What give-  
Oh, no.

"Alright, kiddies! Time for lunch," he cajoled, purposefully sending Mundo all the, 'that was completely normal' vibes he could muster. Knowing full well that a fighter as underhanded as that gringo would be ten times as big a problem if he caught on to what Konnan had just _witnessed_.

When Puma left the ring without so much as a dirty backwards glance, Konnan's heart clenched.  
That exchange between the fighters had shifted the poor coaches world view. A revelation the size of Manhattan had smacked him upside the frontal lobe:

Prince Puma, Underground Champion Luchador, ' _liked_ ' Johnny Mundo. The man who'd _inadvertently_ turned Puma's world upside down with one simple, broken promise.  
Now everything was starting to make sense! The crying and the snot. The listlessness, the barely being able to look the guy in the eye, the hesitance to really lock in those submissions. It all came back to that stupid little muscle too many good people died over; gave up _careers_ over!  
Puma's **heart** was set on someone who'd betrayed him. 

No wonder he'd been walking the Temple in a daze. 

Konnan sucked in a harsh breath and wished he'd recognized the signs sooner. _Much_ sooner. If he'd only done more to keep the two separated from day one, maybe Puma wouldn't be nursing a-

Stop the presses! 

"Por favor, Dios mío. No," Konnan prayed as he dragged his eyes back up to where Mundo was. _Still_ in the ring, sitting there; guilt ridden expression trailing the retreating form of Konnan's protégé just as out of place on the cocky, headstrong, arrogant Mundo's face as the crushed soul, kicked puppy look Puma had been sporting more often than not.  
Ever since that title match against Cage… neither of those fighters had been the same.

How could Konnan have missed it? 

How could **_they_** have missed it!? 

Johnny Mundo, famed 'Ender of Worlds', ' _liked_ ' Prince Puma.

The two... ' ** _liked_** ' each other. Without the other knowing it! Maybe without knowing it _themselves_.  
They were even denser than Konnan had thought.

Konnan shook the feeling of utter shock out of his head, and tried not to feel anything but contempt for the fighter who was only then picking himself off the mat. He couldn't help it though when his hand reached out and pulled the middle rope down. Nor could he bring himself to let it sproing up into the other Luchador's groin. 

"C'mon, Mundo. The fridge'll be empty at this rate." The seasoned coach did his best to ignore the rejection written plain as day -now that he knew what to look for- all over the younger fighter's face, and led the way to the cantina. A conundrum of epic proportions banging around in his head as he tried to block out the sound of defeated feet following him down the hall.

He'd never expected things to go to hell in a hand basket _quite_ like this.

 

Johnny'd spent all of forty seconds in the cantina, enough time to grab a 'cool' water, then hightailed it outta there and over to the privacy of a deserted locker room.  
He didn't think he could take seeing that furious expression on Puma's face again. Not unless it was pointed in Cage's direction. But, out there on the practice ring floor, it had _definitely_ been meant for Mundo. Not his imitation of the Machine, but the man behind the 'performers only' curtain. And it had struck home.  
Had he truly destroyed any hope they had of rebuilding that bridge Johnny hadn't been able to keep from burning down? Did Puma really hate him _that_ much? 

Regardless; Johnny _needed_ to tell him- needed to explain and _try_ to get his... ex-friend to understand just how unintentional his missing that match had been.

But _how_!? How could he tell Puma all that needed to be said when the guy didn't even want to _touch_ him?! In a ring where the basic objective was to _hit_ the person across from you.

It hadn't been as obvious the day before, because they hadn't been forced to spend as much time squished together like pipe cleaners in some grade schooler's art project, but Johnny'd finally realized that the Champ wasn't just taking it easy on him for the sake of 'taking it easy'. He was being aloof.

Johnny supposed he was lucky Puma wasn't the type to take _revenge_ on those who'd... wronged him.  
Otherwise, more than just Johnny's feelings would be bruised.

He popped the top on his water and drained the whole thing with barely a break taken for air, wiping away the mix of fresh water and sweat left over with the back of a hand across his mouth.  
Then, he sighed, crushed the empty plastic vessel bottom to top, and chucked it **hard** against the nearest locker. Kinda disappointed with the wimpy, non dented reaction it got from the metal door.

He sighed louder, a little growl sneaking its way in at the end, and bent to pick up the piece of litter. He had an 'always leave a place at least as clean as you found it' policy which he wasn't going to compromise just because he was annoyed at his life at the moment.

He scooped the crumpled plastic up in one hand and straightened. Then nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and locked eyes with a pair of stark white irises, barely a hands length from his own.

"P-Pentagon! Were you here the whole time?" Honestly the first thing that came to his mind.

"Sí," said along with a gloved finger indicating the darkest shadow Johnny had ever seen. Clear across the locker room.  
"Pareces un payaso triste."

"Um, okay?" To Johnny's dismay, Pentagon made no move to... _move_. Just kept staring. "Anything el-"

"Dijiste 'Puma'." Johnny's eyes went wide at the statement. Had he really said something out loud?  
"Yo digo," the taller of the two tensed when a leather clad hand raised to level with his eyes, concerned the one it belonged to might- oh geez! He was leaning _closer_! "Cero. Miedo." Accompanied by a couple hand signs Johnny couldn't split his attention well enough to make out.

Then the guy just, sort of... stalked off. What looked like a black candle and a -now Johnny's eyes were playing tricks on him- **bleached bone** peaking out from the sash around his waist.

"Oookaay... 'Zero. Fear.' Huh?" Oh, he _did_ talk to himself out loud! Yikes. That's the kind of thing you'd like to know about yourself before you're allowed to go out in public alone. Better late than never, he supposed.

Soon as break time was over, Johnny was gonna take the -Kindly?- advice and address the situation with Cero Miedo! Just like the creep who'd watched him from a shadow that was... _no longer there_ had advised him to.  
Life was funky like that.

 

Puma and Johnny each went through some stretches and range of motion exercises upon their respective returns from 'lunch'.  
Konnan gave the all clear for them to enter the ring, and Johnny, thanks to Cero Miedo, had something he wanted to say to Puma.

They started off the post morning spar with some shadow style kickboxing; a soft leg to the shoulder here, a downy light punch to an unguarded piece of upper body there.  
Before Konnan could get fed up with that and begin yelling for Puma to put in more practice with those pins, Johnny plucked at his resolve and opened his mouth.

"Hey Puma," just loud enough that he _knew_ the champ could hear, but didn't _think_ anyone else could. "About that match, you against Cage, that I missed," the Champ's eyes narrowed, but that was the only sign he was listening. "I," he bobbed away from a left straight, "had every intention," he sidestepped a Puma swipe and countered with a little Libre chop to the exposed shoulder blade, "of being there."

Puma broke form _just_ enough to bring a hand near his own mouth, holding it as if he were pantomiming a duck bill, and close it. Paired with a withering look, Johnny thought it fairly safe to guess the meaning to be, _"Shut it."_

Johnny took in a breath, wishing they didn't need to be actively fighting in order to _talk_ , but ready to work with it.  
"I mean it," he said, glancing around to make sure any other Luchadores in the gym weren't listening.  
Puma came in with a hot kidney punch, which Johnny deflected and figuring, "What do I have to lose?," went for a clench.  
"I don't know how it happened," he said, head practically butted up against the Champ's, "but someone stole my cellphone and locked-" he had to renew the clench when Puma twisted to get a body shot in. " _Triple_ locked me in the back of an armored van."

Puma broke the clench with another body shot, that one not quite as soft as the last, and in a very non-Lucha move, _shoved_ his sparring partner into the closest corner.  
Eyes accusing, his hands came up and flashed a litany of signs at the taller fighter. Signs Johnny had never seen, and at such speed that he only managed to differentiate a couple from the confusion.

One looked like Puma was wiping milk off the whole bottom of his chin, the back of his hand touching one side of his jaw and swiping under till it reached the other side.

Then the fighter clenched both hands into fists, biting his bottom lip, and turned to vault the top rope and take the closest exit. 

Feeling flummoxed, and almost as if he'd just been slapped, Johnny slipped out of the ring, walked over to where Konnan had been standing for the entire exchange, and asked, "Uh, what was that?"

Konnan heaved a sigh before answering. "He says he doesn't want you're lies. Doesn't need made up excuses," he translated, head hung a little lower than usual. Almost as if the guy was regretting what he'd had to say.  
"I'll see if I can get him to calm down," but before he made a move to follow in the Prince's footsteps, he turned to Johnny with an out of place look on his craggy face. "Maybe next time, just say what you **mean** , pendejo."

"Huh?" 

"You'll figure it out. Or at least, you _better_. For both your sakes," he said, giving his cane a little shake, obviously not meaning to threaten though. Weird.

As the Barbarian walked off, Johnny placed the look he'd been given: Sympathy.  
Double weird.

Hm. Say 'what he means', huh? Johnny could do that just fine. He'd just been hoping to do so _following_ his explanation. Maybe he should have thought that bit through a little more carefully? 

Johnny got told that the sparring would start up again same time tomorrow by a Konnan he was beginning to suspect just _might_ have started **not** hating him, then spent his entire cool down pondering the best way he could go about this whole 'Cero. Miedo. Saying what he meant' thing.

By morning, he had a pretty good plan of action lined up, and unless it promptly blew up in his face; he was gonna see it through to the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaalrighty then. Who was hoping for more resolution than that? I think I see a few hands, way in the back there.  
> Yeah. Well... next time, baby. I _mean_ it too! Part 7 is expected to hold the answers to all life's greatest mysteries and definitely a... wait a sec! You're trying to get spoilers out of me! Not gonna happen!
> 
> Seriously though: I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it anywhere near as much I enjoyed writing it, and I encourage anyone who had more than no feelings on the drama to share those feelings in a comment below! That way, I can tell you whether those feelings are allowed to be felt. ;D  
>  Till next time!  
> ~Anonymous


End file.
